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moisturized hands.
Mercy credited her voluptuous curves to all of her promotions, having very little respect for men as most of them typically ignored the vast intellect, neglecting it like an orphan or an unwanted step-child. Mercy reached her boiling point, tired of playing by the hypocritical norms ruling the male dominated world. She wouldn't take it anymore, pledging to rebel against it all.
Mercy had only been in love once, but it was extremely brief and every man she'd been with since him was always myopically concerned with getting his, having no concern for ensuring she was satisfied while gazing at her with their celebratory smiles of satisfaction, beaming like sun rays just before rolling their lazy bodies out of her bed and making their way to the door.
Mercy's breaking point splintered like an old brittle stick in the last few days. Now, she was determined to live her life by her rules, as ruthless as they were, taking another big swig of the well-aged whiskey from the flask she received after becoming the youngest attorney in her firm in its hundred year history.
Determined to side-step the naive expectations of the modern era, she was ready to let go of all inhibition, giving herself permission to be as reckless as she needed to be in order to treat men like objects of pleasure and nothing more.
Running her fingers through her hair, deliberately tussling it into chaos, her dress swaying in the frosty weather, she briskly proceeded towards the Elite High-Class Bullet Train. Only people with a great deal of money, or a company that sponsored seats, could afford to ride it.
Mercy, for the first time in her young life, was determined to impulsively pursue her personal pleasure whatever the risk. Taking another giant swig from her silver plated flask, while taking her first step onto the train, she allowed herself to enjoy the burn it caused as it tumbled down her throat.
For most of Mercy's life, her time was strictly devoted to achieving success in her field. She was never great at getting close to people and always felt like an outsider.
It took a long time before Mercy could bring herself to get close to someone. Only one time in her life had she ever met a man that she felt close to right away, but that was a long time ago. She tried not to think about it, especially not tonight.
The next few steps she took on the train, Mercy grew excited at the thought of acting out spontaneously, convinced this was the only way she'd be able to break free of the grueling loneliness and misery she'd been spiraling down recently, and she took another drink to celebrate such an optimistic prospect.
Walking toward the section of seats that were open to anyone who pays per ride, different than the section of seats reserved for her massive firm, hoping that this small act might help push her towards more spontaneous and unpredictable situations to act on.
Staring at the seat she usually sat in when she rode the train, she took another few drinks from her flask. A few moments later, a corpulent woman she didn't recognize suspiciously looked around, and then deposited herself in it.
“Pathetic wench,” Mercy whispered under her breath much too quiet for anyone else to hear, laughing as she did. She took another swig of whiskey as she began wondering if she felt as unhappy on the inside as the heavy woman taking her usual seat looked on the outside.
The train began moving quickly, shooting along the track with great force. Mercy loved riding this extremely exclusive train, filled with only the best and the brightest people her massive city had to offer. This social separation helped her feel important, somehow, making the ride to and from work the best part of her day.
Continuing to take a few more drinks from her large flask, a man's voice abruptly resonated, as if it was from the male lead of a classic romantic movie. Sitting alone in her comfortable booth,
Mercy credited her voluptuous curves to all of her promotions, having very little respect for men as most of them typically ignored the vast intellect, neglecting it like an orphan or an unwanted step-child. Mercy reached her boiling point, tired of playing by the hypocritical norms ruling the male dominated world. She wouldn't take it anymore, pledging to rebel against it all.
Mercy had only been in love once, but it was extremely brief and every man she'd been with since him was always myopically concerned with getting his, having no concern for ensuring she was satisfied while gazing at her with their celebratory smiles of satisfaction, beaming like sun rays just before rolling their lazy bodies out of her bed and making their way to the door.
Mercy's breaking point splintered like an old brittle stick in the last few days. Now, she was determined to live her life by her rules, as ruthless as they were, taking another big swig of the well-aged whiskey from the flask she received after becoming the youngest attorney in her firm in its hundred year history.
Determined to side-step the naive expectations of the modern era, she was ready to let go of all inhibition, giving herself permission to be as reckless as she needed to be in order to treat men like objects of pleasure and nothing more.
Running her fingers through her hair, deliberately tussling it into chaos, her dress swaying in the frosty weather, she briskly proceeded towards the Elite High-Class Bullet Train. Only people with a great deal of money, or a company that sponsored seats, could afford to ride it.
Mercy, for the first time in her young life, was determined to impulsively pursue her personal pleasure whatever the risk. Taking another giant swig from her silver plated flask, while taking her first step onto the train, she allowed herself to enjoy the burn it caused as it tumbled down her throat.
For most of Mercy's life, her time was strictly devoted to achieving success in her field. She was never great at getting close to people and always felt like an outsider.
It took a long time before Mercy could bring herself to get close to someone. Only one time in her life had she ever met a man that she felt close to right away, but that was a long time ago. She tried not to think about it, especially not tonight.
The next few steps she took on the train, Mercy grew excited at the thought of acting out spontaneously, convinced this was the only way she'd be able to break free of the grueling loneliness and misery she'd been spiraling down recently, and she took another drink to celebrate such an optimistic prospect.
Walking toward the section of seats that were open to anyone who pays per ride, different than the section of seats reserved for her massive firm, hoping that this small act might help push her towards more spontaneous and unpredictable situations to act on.
Staring at the seat she usually sat in when she rode the train, she took another few drinks from her flask. A few moments later, a corpulent woman she didn't recognize suspiciously looked around, and then deposited herself in it.
“Pathetic wench,” Mercy whispered under her breath much too quiet for anyone else to hear, laughing as she did. She took another swig of whiskey as she began wondering if she felt as unhappy on the inside as the heavy woman taking her usual seat looked on the outside.
The train began moving quickly, shooting along the track with great force. Mercy loved riding this extremely exclusive train, filled with only the best and the brightest people her massive city had to offer. This social separation helped her feel important, somehow, making the ride to and from work the best part of her day.
Continuing to take a few more drinks from her large flask, a man's voice abruptly resonated, as if it was from the male lead of a classic romantic movie. Sitting alone in her comfortable booth,
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